The Pawtawnee Chronicles

by W.T. Zumm

Pawtawnee (pop 2096, located on the shore of Lake Michigan, Wisconsin, USA) is undergoing changes: a cathouse, Messalina Saph's Kitty-Kat Lounge, has sprung up in town: this is an ongoing chronicle of alterations wrought in the personalities of the residents as a consequence: oppression and Puritanism persist, to be sure, but no longer hold absolute sway...


Chronicle No. 1

Appearance and disposition of Messalina Saph, businesswoman. "Sir, feel free to reach up and masturbate the slut: that's what she's paid for!"

Chronicle No. 2

Reverend Themsley discovers the wilder side of pleasure. "Give me pink love-flowers, slippery flesh-petals, moist bushes! Permit me, please, to water those bushes! -- to part wide the petals, thrust deep with tongue, lap up all the nectar!"

Chronicle No. 3

Judge Naughton begs to differ with the stern pronouncements of his wife. "Oh, shit! I don't believe it! My death-in-life fun-hating prude bitch of a wife's on the butcher's front steps! Quick, Chastity, get down! -- crouch in the ditch, my life depends on it!"


Bio: W.T. Zumm hails from a small town in Wisconsin, located on the shore of Lake Michigan. "Rather similar to the Pawtawnwee of my column," he laughingly admits. "And no, we were never treated to the fine circumstance of a Chicago Madame setting up shop and considerably altering the inclinations of some of our residents -- as a town not too far away was fortunate enough to experience -- but there were many surreptitious, beneath the veneer, goings-on which flatly contradict the common conception, by non small town residents, that little out of the ordinary occurs in such places. Yes, the human spirit will out! The primal urgings common to all of us will not, in all cases, permit itself to be forced into the background at all times by the assorted morals and codes of manners steadily promoted by the church, chamber of commerce, and town newspaper. Civilization is an attempt to keep nature at bay, but nature is the source of our body temperature and blood flow; small town public opinion is an attempt to see to it people lead lives unlikely to attract attention, but whispered gossip is secretly thankful for those who've strayed far enough from the norm to provide some engaging entertainment. And it's, quite simply, impossible for all individuals to resist supposing they're the ones who are entitled to 'get away with it'; just as it's impossible for others, urged on by a trifle too much accumulated desire, to avoid becoming resentful of and bored with the community spirit variety of behavior; and, well, sex is a fact of life -- and sex wears many costumes, encompasses many subcategories which steadfastly avoid open admission -- and, hey, a beautiful woman is a beautiful woman, regardless of whether she's married to the mayor -- and, sad to say, those united in the common cause of town stability and prosperity may not be inordinately fond of each other personally and, before they're half aware of it, scores are craving to be settled. In short, people can't help but have an uneasy relationship with contentment; despite themselves, they've generally got to do a few -- or great many -- things during the course of their lives which they dare not tell to many others or any other or even to themselves. Small towns are not exempt from human nature. And so, without further prelude, I shall provide an example of socially discouraged behavior from my town:

"Half the kids in grade school knew that the wife of the most successful builder in town routinely stripped and stimulated herself before the large picture window in the living room on the first floor in the back of her house at approximately eight o'clock while her husband remained at work. She was fond of wearing rather conservative dresses of mid-calf length and it was immensely absorbing to watch her raise them to her stomach, above her breasts, up over her head, and cast them aside; the contrast between the staid image such dresses presented and the black lace panties, garters, and brassieres underneath was quite striking and heightened the impact of her nakedness far more than if all her clothes had been of a risqué nature. Of course, that was nothing compared to the ripe voluptuousness of her body; I never tired of watching her sultry curves emerge from the frumpiness in which they'd been intentionally concealed; a variety of stunned awe would overcome me -- which I don't mind admitting, being as I was in but the fourth grade. The smooth glistening white of her complexion, ample breasts, dark patch of fur between her firm symmetrical thighs: such was the stuff my daydreams were made of for the good part of a year. And when she undid the tight bun of her hair, shook her head until that long cascading mane of curling darkness splashed over her shoulders!

"Yes, indeed, we received quite an education -- such as how brassieres, panties, garters, and stockings are unfastened, slipped off, rolled down -- such as how a pair of firm round laughing breasts sit on a woman's chest once the brassiere is removed, their slight dip downwards, engaging bounce in time to vigorous strides across the floor -- or how those same breasts flatten against a woman's chest when she stretches out full length on a couch and arches her back -- or how a woman goes about stimulating herself, the finger ticklings and probes; and the aspect her features assume when she's approaching climax -- the rhythmic tightening and relaxation of her stomach, closed eyes, open mouth -- the breathing that's forceful enough to discern visually, convulsive tautness -- and then writhing, gasping; her arms suddenly fall limp at her sides, spread thighs suddenly close; she lies blissfully absent for a spell: yes, indeed, an invaluable education! -- extremely pertinent, life-altering, information for children of grade school age!

"One night a man in his early twenties, relatively new in town, who worked as a substitute teacher, house painter, and charter fishing assistant was chatting with our adopted schoolmistress on the couch we knew so well. We assumed she'd summoned him indoors to discuss some fine point pertaining to the paint he was applying to the house. Perhaps she had; in addition, she obviously hinted at another variety of service he could provide. He stood rather abruptly, seized one of her wrists, and yanked her upright in a manner that didn't seem to be kind; but she was laughing, playfully slapping at his waist. They circled to the rear of the couch; he suddenly grabbed her by the nape of her neck with one hand, bent her forwards over the back of the couch, pulled her dress up to her shoulders, removed her stockings and panties, and crouched nearly out of view behind the couch while continuing to hold her in place. When he stood upright again he had a shoe in his free hand, with which he commenced to spank her rather fiercely; he appeared to be yelling; she was writhing, grasping the couch cushions with convulsive hands, tearing at the fabric with her nails, all the while displaying a face that appeared to be wavering between exultation and abjection. His arm continued to flail; far from lessening the force of the blows, he seemed to increase them; from our hiding place in the shrubbery, we could see the twin white globes of her beautiful buttocks changing color.

"We were none too pleased to see our beloved educator being treated thus; we were tempted to race to the window, rap on it, and yell in an attempt to get the man to stop. We were dissuaded from intervention, however, on account of the audible cries of pleasure which were soon absolutely bursting from her lips: "More! More!" she was yelling amidst deep throaty wails of delight, "Harder, my champion! Harder! Beat your bitch!" Well, I must admit we were divided as to how to feel about our Goddess reveling in such treatment. A couple kids appeared to be under the influence of authentic revulsion and horror; others were blatantly amused; I, if I remember correctly, was utterly fascinated: a spanking produce so much overwhelming pleasure, how could that be? But our teacher's pleasure was beyond dispute; and how lovely she was when twisting against and clawing at the couch and exhorting her partner to hit harder! How heavenly the look of rapturous absence which overcame her face shortly after the spanking commenced! Certainly she was far happier with her new partner than when stimulating herself alone, with only her hand for company! Yes, I remember very distinctly thinking I must be gazing upon the most beautiful woman in the world and that she had the most magnificent look in her eyes that it's possible for any woman to have: my admiration was redoubled. And how I envied that man!"






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